


You never forget how to ride a bike

by Monty-BoJangles (slinkymilinky)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:02:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slinkymilinky/pseuds/Monty-BoJangles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yeah...I don't know either.</p></blockquote>





	You never forget how to ride a bike

When Stiles had been given the chance to decorate his room ( _‘Yes really, any color you want’_ – His dad’s way of saying, _‘I can’t talk about your mom yet.’_ ) he’d immediately picked _Cornflower Blue_ and outfitted the room with chrome. A chrome articulated desk-lamp, a desk with chrome legs, a chrome bed frame and one of those chrome spidery chandelier affairs that used halogen light bulbs.

To Stiles at fourteen it had seemed adult and modern but also, secretly, a bit like a space station.

(Sure, it only stayed classy for about a month and then Stiles was throwing up band posters and glow in the dark decals, but he’d had good intentions.)

The problem with fancy looking chrome-spidery-chandeliers is that the halogen light bulbs lasted about a week before they blew.

Within the space of six weeks all of them had died a death and with his dad working all hours and Stiles knowing that the combination of him and stepladders usually lead to late nights spent in the ER…well he still had a desk-lamp. That was enough to see by. To do homework by.

He kept forgetting though; kept walking into his room and throwing his hand against the light switch expecting something to happen that never did. After a few weeks he got used to it and would ghost his hand over the switch on occasion, but would catch himself before pressing down.

Then the sheriff had been forced on vacation by Harriet (we _can cope without you for four days John. Seriously – go home!_ ) and had changed the bulbs to sturdier energy saving alternatives while also getting started on fixing the kitchen cabinets are still hanging off their hinges three years later.

And so Stiles had to relearn to switch the light on. Had to see the dust settling over his books and the figurines of _Master Chief_ and _Solid Snake_. Had to stop throwing his dirty clothes into dark corners because they weren’t dark anymore. Had to notice the smudge of Cornflower Blue his dad had left on the skirting board near the door.

 

People say things like; _‘You never forget how to ride a bike.’_

That’s bullshit. Of course you do…you just relearn quick is all.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek’s hand stills against his scalp, surprised by the noise. A whine – something childish. Stiles curses himself a little, shifting his bandaged arm tighter against his chest.

When it feels like Derek isn’t going to continue his exploration of Stiles’ newly long hair –blunt nails scraping symbols, words or maybe nonsense over the crown of his head and behind his ears – he presses his head back into the palm more firmly. Asking. After a careful minute (because Derek is always too fucking careful) the fingers in his hair resume their migration over and around his skull. It’s firmer than before, like his hands are asking questions. Like this is a _dialogue_.

“My mom,” Stiles starts, trying to swallow the tight knot of emotion sitting pretty in his throat, “she used to play with my hair when we watched TV. I’d forgotten.”

“Okay,” Derek says. Then, “Do you like it?”

Stiles doesn’t nod because that might shake off Derek’s hand; might dislodge the thumb that’s pressing against his nape with warm pressure. Derek gets scared off too easily sometimes – a stray hand gesture can have him bolting. So Stiles closes his eyes, breathes out through his nose and says, “Yeah.”

“Laura used to make me play those clapping games with her. Like _Patty Cake_. Or the one about Cinderella. I’m sure a couple of them were about bubonic plague. She’d use her claws when I didn’t do it quick enough.”

Stiles bites his lip to stop the giggles but Derek must feel them vibrating through his shoulders because the hand curved over his skull tightens just a little.

“I’m not gonna play _Patty Cake_ with you, dude. With my coordination you’d probably lose an eye.”

The amused huff of air over his ear makes him shiver. It’s nice. It’s something new.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah...I don't know either.


End file.
